Five Nights at Quiznos
by NoWindForThisHole
Summary: let's eat


They'd finally done it. The man who had made their lives so mildly tedious had finally kicked the bucket. "We did it, gang," said Freddy. "Let's blow this joint."

"Not 'till I'm finished blowing Mike," said Chica, who had her two beaks slurpin' on Mike's death boner.

"Chica, he's not gonna e-jac. He's dead," said Bonnie.

Chica frowned at him with her beak. "I know that. I'm not thirsty," she squawked, biting off the Wacky Weiner.

Freddy gave her a pat on the back. "Cool job, pal. Now who's got directions?"

Chica pulled out a compressed file and opened the .zip package. The map filled the room; it was life-sized. "I've got some connections in the hood," she said. "We need to find Quincy."

A muffled noise came from 522 sheets below the surface. Bonnie poked his head out of the mess. "I have found the 'Q.'"

"Then that is where we must go," said Freddy. "Are ya ready, Freddy?" Freddy nodded.

Chica and the others went past the doors, and then came back to the doors. Freddy put the key in the door. "Where is the key?" said Chica.

They heard a howl from the side of the distance. Freddy saw his chance. "What will the fox say?" He was trying to keep it real with the hip crowd. Bonnie took a stand, and Chica took a sit. Then Chica stood, and Bonnie sat. They did this for three minutes.

Freddy took a walk up to the source of the living siren. It was Foxy. Foxy turned around and took a turn for the worse. He was wearing a bra as pants, and pants as a bra. He had six metallic nipples. "Are you 's0ulxx' from ChristianMingle-dot-com?"

Foxy turned around again. And again. Freddy put a stop to it, whistling for his squatting friends. They each grabbed two nipples each, and Foxy's oscillation ceased. Chica shook his hand with her feathers. "Does my metal-gina not give you enough lovin'?" she teased, teased playfully teased, playfully teased.

"Your cloaca doesn't sustain me. I need fresh meat. I need some cock in my butthole," Foxy declared.

Chica smiled with her beak. She understood. Freddy, however, could not understand. "Ha-ha! I thought she was a cock? Like a chicken, that is." Everyone forced a humorous reaction.

"Ha ha," said Chica.

"Hee hee," said Bonnie.

"Ho ho ho ho," said Foxy.

"Heh heh," Freddy laughed at his own joke. This was acceptable. "Let's get a move on. Voxy here can get us there in a jiffy."

The formed a Republic of the Congo line. Foxy arched his back 90 degrees, and zoomed off in a direction. "Pep pep, Foxy," said Freddy, spurring his companion, who was not Foxy. Bonnie took it like a man.

They arrived at the marked coordinates. Foxy emptied the luggage onto the sidewalk. Chica applauded with her feet. "Good work, team."

Freddy cupped his chin bumps with both hands. "What does that mean? Is this the correct place?"

Bonnie, who did not want his boss to get angered. He put his hands on Freddy's hands. "Frederique Faz-Urso, I…"

Freddy walked in the building. Chica laughed. "Loser!" She slammed Bonnie's head into the door.

Foxy stood up straight again. "Boy am I hungry," he predicted.

There was an old man behind the counter. The room was filled with dust and cobwebs. It looked like it had seen better days. A sign dangling on one wire from the ceiling read "Established 1981."

A young woman came out of a back room and shook the barely-alive man. "Grandpa, wake up, customers!"

The old man booted up. "Welcome to Quiznos!" he shouted in surprise.

Bonnie shrugged. "At least I got the first three letters right."

Chica was annoyed. "Bonnie, you blockhead. Now how are we supposed to-"

"I want a Five Dollar Six Inch on the whole wheat bread," Freddy said. "Or should I say the whole wheat Fred?" he winked and paid them two dollars in advance.

The man tried to write down the order, but could not use a pen. "Where's the ink bottle?"

The girl wrote down the order angrily. "Anyone else?"

"I'd like a chicken salad," Foxy trailed off, gazing at Chica's ass.

The old man went back into the kitchen, as he was the only one working there. "I'll fix you up some good eatin'." The woman robbed the cash register and stole the tip jar. She didn't work there.

The animatronic crew felt at home. They loudly performed a rendition of the entirety of No Love Deep Web, waking up the whole damn neighborhood.

Hours had passed, and the old geezer finally emerged with their spoiled food. "We haven't restocked in 30 years," he said.

Foxy gave a thumbs sideways. "That's okay because we don't have any taste buds or tongues," he said. The food fell out of his mouth.

Chica chuckled. "Yeah, we don't even have a digestive system," she added, coughing up Mike Schmidt's still-intact penis.


End file.
